<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Drops of Flame by LittleCharlie</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22850185">Drops of Flame</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleCharlie/pseuds/LittleCharlie'>LittleCharlie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Sun’s Circle [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 17:47:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,117</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22850185</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleCharlie/pseuds/LittleCharlie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Sun’s Circle [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642681</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Drops of Flame</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Rain slipped into Arya’s chambers with a bucket and an old rag. She set them down against the wall, out of the way, as she began to tidy the room. Arya’s clothes, rumpled, dirty and scattered throughout the room, were put in a small pile by the door, to be brought to the laundry. The various sticks that she often brought into her room to practice swordplay in secret were tossed out an open window. Carelessly discarded needles and cloth were neatly packed away, as were discarded papers. Once the room was clean and the bed made, Rain collected her bucket and rag and began to scrub the floors.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If only Mother could see me now, a highborn lady’s maid,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the small girl inside her whispered. For a moment, safe in the knowledge that Arya was cloistered away with Septa Mordane and Sansa, Rain allowed her thoughts to slip back. Her mother had been a frail woman, but her eyes had danced. Even if her mother were still alive, Rain doubted she would know even half of her mother’s carefully collected secrets. There had been warmth in her mother’s eyes, and love. But that was gone now. Her mother’s dancing eyes were drowned out by the sound of her screams on the night she died. Rain had been scared by the screams, had fled from them as fast as her small legs could carry her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lord Ned had found her much, much later, small, starving, and soaked to the bone. She had been shaking, terrified that it would be her turn to scream like her mother had screamed, but determined not to run again. Instead, he had soothed her fears and fed her. He had wrapped her in a cloak much too big for her, made of warm furs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had brought her home with him. She was set to work within a sennight of arriving in Winterfell, but she did not mind that so much. Lord Ned treated her kindly, as did his staff. He checked in on her at least once every two or three moons, ensuring that she was well-fed, well-clothed, healthy, and unmolested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had heard the whispers, seen the glances. She had Dornish features, and he had brought her to Winterfell at the same time as Jon Snow. Even the Stark children sent her curious glances sometimes. The general consensus, however, seemed to be that if she </span>
  <em>
    <span>were</span>
  </em>
  <span> his bastard, he would have claimed her as openly as he had Jon, especially since being a girl left her more vulnerable, especially since her age meant she’d been born long before Lord Ned had been married to the Lady.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, the conclusion didn’t stop Jon’s curious eyes from following her, or prevent Lord Robb from sending her friendly smiles. Lady Arya’s curiosity about her seemed to be insatiable, even though Rain had few memories of her life before Winterfell. There was a reason the staff of Winterfell lovingly (and sometimes exasperatedly) called the girl Arya Underfoot. Rain had even caught Lord Bran sneakingly following her from high above, flushing when she looked up to wave to him merrily. The only Stark children who didn’t seem to follow where she went were little Lord Rickon and proper Lady Sansa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She emptied the rag back into the bucket of dirty water and heaved the bucket up. The water jostled as she navigated the corridors of Winterfell, sloshing droplets onto her arms and down the front of her gown. She turned sideways to avoid other servants, using her hip to open the unlatched door to the courtyard. A shudder wracked her frame at the first gust of air, but she pressed on, heading for the glass gardens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look out!” She heard someone cry, and her head snapped up just in time to twist out of the way. The contents of her bucket slopped over the side, dousing Theon Greyjoy’s boots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Curses flew from his lips and she cringed back, shoulders curling in as she hugged the bucket tight to her chest. Lord Theon was known for being especially rough with servants when he was displeased, at least when the Starks were not in clear sight. Laughter from across the courtyard caused air to return to her lungs as the tightness faded. Immediately, apologies flew from her lips. Lord Theon’s glaring sneer made it clear she was not forgiven.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peace, Theon,” Lord Robb chuckled, coming to stand at his side. “It was an honest accident. You are lucky it wasn’t worse; if Ser Rodrik hadn’t warned her, it would have been all over both of you.” He turned to her with a warm smile. “Please tell me that wasn’t privy water,” he said in a mock whisper. “I’ll not be able to stand the smell of his boots for the rest of the day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wash water from Lady Arya’s rooms, m’lord,” Rain assured him, shaking her head with a small smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That might just be worse,” he jested, grinning. Her small smile widened reluctantly. He was charming, the heir of the North.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Back to work, lads!” Ser Rodrik called.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have a good day, Rain,” Robb said, clasping Theon on the shoulder and pulling him away. Rain gave a small curtsey as best she could with her arms full and turned away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once she’d finished emptying the bucket, she headed for the wood pile, gathering fresh wood and taking it up to Lady Arya’s chambers. Knowing Lady Arya preferred a cooler room, she arranged the wood carefully in the fireplace but did not light it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A loud bang caused her to jolt up, head banging on the top of the fireplace. Tears fell as her head exploded. Luckily, there were no ashes to cough in. She quickly retreated from the fireplace, a hand raised to clutch her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well that was silly,” a matter-of-fact voice proclaimed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should be in lessons, milady.” Rain reminded her young charge, blinking back tears. Arya made a face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish you’d stop calling me that,” she complained. “And lessons are boring. I’m going out to watch the boys in the yard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why are you here?” Rain asked curiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because the yard will be the first place that Septa Mordane looks for me. Once she looks there, she won’t think to look there again,” Arya explained sensibly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A good plan,” Rain praises, smiling. Arya beams. “Except that you live here, milady. Your lady mother and your septa will find you eventually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Arya admits. “But not right away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Rain laughs, “not right away. Good luck to you then, little lady.” Rain turned back to the fireplace but Arya stopped her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rain?” Rain smiled at the curiosity clear in her lady’s tone and turned back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, milady?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you Jon’s sister?” Rain smiled faintly, sadly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not your father’s daughter, Lady Arya,” she told her quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I know,” Arya said, shaking her head. “Father would have said so if you were. But I heard people saying things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear, milady.” Rain cautioned her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But this makes sense,” Arya insisted. “They say that maybe you were Jon’s mother’s daughter, by a different man. They say maybe your mother is dead, or that she begged Father to take you with him so that Jon could have something of his mother’s family with him. You and Jon look alike, a little. Your hair is dark and curly, like his.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His looks come from his Stark blood, milady, and mine comes from my mother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jon and I do not share a mother, Arya.” Her tone was firm but gentle, using the little lady’s name informally to soften the blow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Arya sighed, pouting, “I only thought… it'd be nice to have you as family, even if it was only through Jon, and he's always wanted to know more about his mother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rain said nothing, turning to leave the room. She bit her bottom lip and tasted blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hours later, Rain was finishing a late supper among the staff of Winterfell. Mikken was making jokes while Tom laughed at Dan's attempts to convince Beth to let him court her. Rain smiled along with them, but felt apart. For as long as she had been part of the Stark household, longer than Lady Stark, she was very clearly ‘other’. A Dornish woman among northerners, she stood out and apart. The others were not unkind, but they didn’t know what to make of her or her place in the castle. It was why she’d been given Arya as her charge. An unconventional maid for an unconventional lady.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Up until Arya had been born, Rain had been under the care of Old Nan, her duties switching between running errands for Maester Luwin or Septa Mordane. She had heard quite a lot just from listening to all of them talk at her, her first introduction to how much she could learn by being still and quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That had started to change once she’d turned three and ten. Her womanly curves had started to form, and the men of Winterfell had begun to show interest. Even Lord Robb and Lord Theon had followed her with their eyes, though Lord Robb had never approached her. Her blood had come at four and ten, and offers of marriage with it. Though there were some offers less repugnant than others, Jory’s shy proposal among them, she had refused them all, and the offers had dwindled. Lord Stark had urged her to accept someone, but she firmly refused. Despite the fact that he could have arranged a match for her, he had let the matter rest. She was sure his guilt refused to allow him to force the issue, no matter how he might wish to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slipping into her cot that evening, Rain heard her mother’s voice and her uncle’s warm chuckle. She felt soft, dark fur and saw a small babe’s first smile. She woke up to dried tears on her cheeks, but a smile on her mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next morning, Lod Stark and his three older sons, accompanied by Lord Theon and several guardsmen, set off first thing in the morning heading north. Rain spent the day with Serena, the daughter of Lady Catelyn’s maidservant, as they mended clothing and sewed linens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the men returned, they came bearing small pups, one for each of the Stark children. Rain helped to get milk for the pups, showing her charge how to feed the small she-pup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t until that evening at supper that she heard the news the other servants had to tell. Robert Baratheon and his Lannister family were coming to Winterfell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rain found that her appetite was gone immediately. Lannister red haunted her dreams, and she hated the thought of them invading Winterfell the way they’d invaded King’s Landing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the meal, Lord Stark summoned her to his solar. To her relief, he instructed her to travel to Bear Island with a message for Lady Mormont. She was to remain there until he sent word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So caught up in her feelings of relief, she missed Arya’s warning signs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you sending her away!? She hasn’t done anything wrong!” Her young charge demanded fiercely when Lord Ned announced it at dinner. Normally, the missive would be sent by raven or, if it was too large or important, one of the messenger boys or guardsmen would be sent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Arya!” Lady Stark scolded, surprised at her daughter’s outrage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our men are needed to make ready for the King’s arrival,” Lord Ned explained patiently. “Rain is the only available person in Winterfell who is both able to ride, would not take offense at traveling in a fishing boat across to Bear Island, and is not required for preparations. She will return to Winterfell after her task is complete. This isn’t a punishment, Arya.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why does it feel like one!” Arya demanded, lips quivering as she struggled to hold back tears. Rain stepped forward to wrap the girl in her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It won’t be so long, milady, you’ll see,” she promised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry I asked about your mother, Rain. Please don’t go!” She cried. Rain closed her eyes, knowing she wasn’t imagining the sharp intakes of breath behind her, or the sudden tension.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t because of that, little wolf,” she crooned softly, knowing everyone at the table was listening intently. “The one has nothing to do with the other. I’m just going to deliver a message to House Mormont. I’m coming back as soon as it’s done. I’m not leaving you, milady, not for good. It’s alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Arya persisted. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Rain bit her lip, rocking the girl in her arms gently.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>